Since You've Been Gone
by Reading Redhead
Summary: Tonks and Lupin are missing the same person. Could this draw them together? Well, not without the help of the rest of the Order... Eventual RLNT. HBP Spoilers! DISCONTINUED, will not be completed.
1. Lost

**Disclaimer:** I own none of the things I'm writing about, but the writing itself is still mine.

**Author's Note:** Well, I know this (or something like it) has been done before, but I didn't know that when I wrote it, so I think it's still original. I usually don't write in this style, but was inspired to by Limelight's _The Not Quite Love Letters_. Different pairing, different fandom, but the same idea. Her story is infinitely better than this will be, but no one said I couldn't try…

Ideally this will follow the events of HBP from start to finish. It begins right after Harry has just left school for the holidays. Some dates and events have been arbitrarily created to serve plot purposes, but they all fit with the canon storyline. The intent of this story is to focus on the growing relationship between Tonks and Lupin during the sixth book by examining things that JKR _doesn't_ show her readers: correspondence within the Order, and journal entries of Lupin and Tonks, mostly.

Please review and let me know if I should continue.

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Since You've Been Gone

**Chapter 1: Lost**

**From the diary of Nymphadora Tonks**

**Saturday June 30th, 1996**

I still can't believe he's gone.

That one thought, however simple, is suddenly the only one I have room to think. I guess it's an improvement over sobbing so hard that it's impossible to think; at least this way I can see. Not that there's much _to_ see. I've been temporarily excused from Order work—most of us have, actually, but that's just Dumbledore's way of telling us there's nothing new for us to do. I swear, even if _he_ died, he'd leave us lists of things to do, if there were things that needed doing, but now that...that...considering things, it figures that there's nothing to do.

I wish I did have work to do, but things have even been quiet at the Auror office. It makes me want to scream—Voldemort's back, finally everyone knows he's back, and there is _nothing_ we can do about it. Nothing I can do about it.

And so I'm writing in this journal, for the first time since I was still in Hogwarts. The last things that were written in here were worries about exams. God, how I _wish_ that was still all I had to worry about! Even after I got out of school, even when I was going through Auror training, that was nothing compared to this.

And I think, maybe, that it was nothing because _he_ was here, and because if I needed to talk to _him_, I could.

But now the only way I'll see him again is in my dreams...

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**From the desk of Mr. R. J. Lupin**

**Sunday July 1st, 1996**

Dear Sirius,

I have just come to the realization that I'm writing a letter to a man who isn't alive to receive it. Some part of me says that's sad, but another part of me thinks that maybe there's something to this...maybe it helps the pain, at least a bit. I've never really thought about what I think about God, or the afterlife...but somehow, when I write this, it feels like you can hear me, Padfoot, and that makes things easier.

I still can't believe that you're not coming back. There are so many things I would have told you, if I'd known. I would have told you not to listen to Snape's gibes, first of all—you're braver than he's ever had a chance to be. I would have told you again how wonderful it has been to have you as a brother again for these past two years. I would have told you how excited I was, that night in the Shrieking Shack, to find out that you had _not_ betrayed James, that you were _not_ a murderer.

I had always hoped that the rest of the world would learn those things as well, always hoped that you would no longer have to be counted as a Death Eater by the uninformed. But you took it all in stride.

It is a cruel world we live in, where all of these things come to light now, when you're not here for me to say them to.

—Moony

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_July 1st_

_Dear Order Members,_

_You are cordially invited to an engagement party for Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour, to be held on Saturday July 6th from __6:00 PM__ to __10:00 PM__ at the Burrow. Informal dress; food and music provided. Please send a return owl by July 3rd to let us know if you will be attending. _

_We apologize for giving such short notice._

_Sincerely, _

_Molly Weasley_

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_Mad-Eye,_

_I'm assuming you got the note about Bill? That's five galleons to me; I told you they'd announce it before the end of the summer._

_—-Kingsley_

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_Shacklebolt,_

_I'd give you the galleons, but I seem to remember that you still owe me ten from the poker game at Headquarters last weekend. _

_I assume you're going to this party?_

_—Moody_

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_Alastor,_

_Of course I'm going; it's not like we have much excuse for a party nowadays. It'll be good to get everyone's minds off of...things. Will you be there?_

_—Kingsley_

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_Shacklebolt,_

_What's with this "Alastor" business? Since when are we on first-name terms?_

_But honestly, Kingsley, do you really think Molly will let me miss it? You know she doesn't like Delacour--not that I blame her, doesn't seem the type to know how to resist even a common jinx. I'm coming prepared for potential fires. Molly will need all the support she can get._

_—Moody_

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_Kingsley,_

_We couldn't help but hear that our dear brother Bill is finally tying the knot, and we were wondering...how did you do with the betting pool? (Great idea, by the way, we both wish it'd been ours.)_

_—Fred & George_

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_F&G,_

_Thanks for the compliment. Well, Moody lost, but I'm already out to him, so no new cash. Dedalus Diggle owes me some, not much, though; he was pretty close. Your father owes me a bit, though...he thought that Bill would have popped the question already. But I owe Dumbledore—he got it spot on. Though I think he might have used magic to help..._

_I'm guessing you'll be at the party?_

_—Kingsley_

_----_----------------------------

_Kingsley,_

_Well, seeing as it's our brother, and until recently it was our house, we're sort of required to show up. _

_Dumbledore might have cheated, but he can't've had a time-turner—I hear Harry & co. managed to smash the Ministry's entire supply. Unless he had one to start with..._

_Come to think of it, that could explain a lot of things._

_See you Saturday._

_—George (with Fred's input)_

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**From the diary of Nymphadora Tonks**

**Monday July 2nd, 1996**

I don't understand this world. How can something so happy happen any more? It feels like nothing good should be able to happen again, not with him gone...

But I've just got a letter from Mrs. Weasley, saying that Bill and Fleur are engaged. To be married. They're having a party on Saturday. A party. He died less than a week ago, and now we're having a party.

It just feels _wrong_.

Wait—there's an owl tapping at my window. Probably one of _them_, trying to get me to come...

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_July 2nd_

_Hey Tonks,_

_So are you coming on Saturday? I'd love to see you there—it'll be a nice chance to catch up on things. Please say you'll come, I really do want to chat with you!_

_—Emmeline_

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_July 2nd_

_Em,_

_I don't know—things are getting hectic down at the Auror office, I really should be doing work. I don't think I can make it, maybe we can chat another day?_

_—Tonks_

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_July 2nd_

_Tonks, stop the bullshit. I just talked to Kingsley, he says that the Auror office is as quiet as...well, as something really quiet, you know I'm not good with similes. You're just looking for an excuse to stay away. I swear, if you don't show up, I'll Apparate over there and get you over here myself. You need some company, girl! You are coming to that party whether you want to or not._

_Don't bother replying, you'll just be tiring out your owl._

_—Em_

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_July 2nd_

_Tonks,_

_Haven't seen you in a while, so I thought I'd drop you a note. Hope things are going all right with you._

_Listen, I'm going to the engagement party on Saturday, and I'd love to see you there. Are you coming?_

_—Hestia_

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_July 2nd_

_Yes, Hestia, I'm coming._

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**From the diary of Nymphadora Tonks**

**Monday July 2nd, 1996**

I _hate_ having friends.

So suddenly I've become Emmeline Vance's personal project, and she's enlisted Hestia Jones as well. No matter _what_ I have to say they're determined to get me out of the house.

Part of me knows that I should leave. My small London apartment has been getting smaller lately, and darker...but I don't think I can face the rest of the Order. I know I can't face their stares and false-sounding sympathy. No matter how heartfelt, all condolences sound false.

It seems I'm getting darker, too. I woke up this morning with long, black hair that lies straight in curtains around my face, and dark brown eyes. I haven't changed appearance unconsciously since before I went to school...but somehow this fits my mood much better than bubblegum spikes. Mum would be happy—finally, I look my age. I wonder what Em will say when she comes to pick me up here on Saturday.

Maybe I should wear black, too.

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_July 3rd_

_Molly,_

_Just a heads-up about your little party Saturday.__ I've convinced Tonks to come—well, more like bullied her into it, really—but I know she really doesn't want to. She's still really down and out over Sirius. I don't know what to say to her when she gets like that—I didn't really know Sirius very well. But I know she needs someone to talk to. Any ideas? She's being so unlike herself..._

_Thanks for your support and advice, you and I both know Tonks needs to snap out of this sooner or later, preferably sooner._

_—Emmeline_

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_July 3rd_

_Emmeline,_

_Don't worry, I know the perfect person for her to talk with, and he'll be there on Saturday as well._

_—Molly_

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**From the desk of Mr. R. J. Lupin**

**Wednesday July 4th, 1996**

Dear Sirius,

Well, looks like you and James aren't the only ones capable of talking me into things I'd really rather not do. Dumbledore's just practically _forced_ me to go to this engagement party at the Burrow on Saturday. He said in his owl that he had important Order business he needed to discuss with me in person, but I know it's really about the party. If the business was pressing, Dumbledore would just come over here now, when there aren't others around to get in the way or overhear.

But I suppose that if anyone could know what I'm going through right now, it's _maybe_ him, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and not mention any of that. I don't know specifics, but I've heard from several different people that Dumbledore lost a lot of people who were pretty dear to him when he fought against the last dark wizard, Grindlewald. And it can't be easy for him this time around, either...I won't deny that he's lost people, that he's had friends snatched away from him before it was their time to go.

And yet, somehow, none of that matters. I hate this, Padfoot, hate having to look strong and keep on with business as though nothing's happened. Sometimes it helps, but other times, like today, it hurts worse than the full moon. Dumbledore may have lost people, but I know for certain that he's never lost a brother.

—Moony

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So, what do you think? Is this worth continuing with? All criticism is welcome! Please review!**


	2. Enjoying the Festivities

**Chapter 2: Enjoying the Festivities**

**From the diary of Nymphadora Tonks**

**Saturday July 6th, 1996**

Dear Sirius,

I don't know how well this will work, but I've just talked to Lupin, and he suggested that I try writing you a letter. At first it sounded funny—it still does, I'll admit—but at the same time it does make some sense, and I thought I'd give it a try.

I miss you. I don't think it's fair that you had to go, but I guess life's not fair.

I don't really know what to write, but since I'm taking some of Lupin's advice, I might as well take all of it and tell you normal things, things about my day. I didn't really do much, until tonight. Bill and Fleur got engaged, and so they were having a party. I didn't really want to go, but Emmeline made me come.

Well, I guess the party could've gone worse. I tried to get out of it, by not coming, but true to her word Em Apparated over here and made me go with her. I think she was a little shocked by my appearance—I guess I haven't really felt much like bright colors, since you've been gone.

"You're wearing _that_?" I distinctly remember her asking, eyeing me. "It's an engagement party, not a funeral."

She realized what she'd said a moment after she'd said it—Em's never been the most tactful, and not used to watching her words—but by then it was said, and it was hard for me to keep from tears. That's one of the many things that's bothered me—we never could give you a funeral.

But I went and changed, anyway, both my clothes and my hair, settling for something less depressing. As harsh as Em can be, I know she was right. People aren't supposed to be sad at parties.

So we Apparated over to the Burrow (though I'll admit to a very strong compulsion to go somewhere else entirely, like maybe just to the next room in my flat). I could hear the promised music in the form of a Weird Sisters song playing in the back yard, but could not yet see the promised food, which I had been even slightly looking forward to—Molly Weasley's cooking wasn't something I wanted to miss, though I could have done without the company it drew.

And there were a lot of people there, both from the Order and otherwise. All the Weasleys except for Percy (even Charlie had managed to get a few hours off), Kingsley, Hestia (as promised), Mad-Eye (one hand clutched tightly about his wand), Remus Lupin (looking sad and shabbier than usual), and surprisingly even Dumbledore himself.

Everyone talked for a while, but I just stood on the edges and listened. Conversation feels too normal. But still, I think I get what Em and Hestia meant; I really haven't been myself lately. All through dinner I still listened, hoping that the chatter and occasional laughter would stop feeling wrong.

It didn't, not quite, but it was a little better. Everyone was acting pretty much normal, which helped; I'll admit, it was nice to be around people who knew and even understood the reason for my silence.

Dinner ended, and I was going to leave, but I found Molly Weasley in the kitchen, waving her wand furiously and directing soaps and towels to clean the various dirty dishes. I asked her what was wrong, and got a great long answer about how Bill and Fleur were never going to last, and how Fleur was a silly girl who only cared about the material things, and didn't she get some say in who her own son married? And then, horror of horrors, she said she'd much rather have _me_ as a daughter-in-law.

Fleur must be worse than I'd thought.

But I took it as a compliment—that was really the only possible response, given Molly's mental state—and tried to leave, before the subject switched to me.

Unfortunately, in my haste to exit the kitchen, I managed to knock into one of the ceramic bowls that was busy cleaning itself above the sink. Predictably, the bowl off-balanced and fell to the floor with a shatter.

Also predictably, this occurred just as Remus Lupin walked in the door of the kitchen, which meant that we _all_ got splattered by a bowlful of soapy water.

I must have said something like "I'm sorry!", but I think it came out as a bit of a squeak—I haven't been using my voice much lately.

"That's all right," said Molly, as she waved her wand and the pieces of the bowl rose up into the air, knitted back together, and then settled softly onto the counter. "Why don't you two go on into the living room, I'll just finish up cleaning and then we'll all have a nice cup of tea." And, with her usual motherly authority, she ushered us both back the way we'd come from.

When Molly Weasley tells you to do something, you do it, so Lupin and I both walked back into the living room. It was at about this point that I realized I was all wet down one side, and sporting several bubbles. I blushed and muttered a drying charm under my breath, looking up just as Lupin did the same.

Something about the look on his face as he did so made me want to laugh—even covered in soap bubbles, he'd managed to look dignified—but the sound came out strangled. I haven't laughed in a while, I guess.

An overly quiet silence settled over the room. Everyone else was outside again, talking and listening to music, so the house was practically empty. But after a moment Lupin started talking to me. I'd almost forgotten, what with everything going on, that he'd known you better than I had; probably better than anyone still alive had.

God, how I hate having to say 'had,' in the past tense.

But it made me feel guilty, and like a child again. Here I've been these past weeks, practically sobbing my eyes out every chance I get, and I barely even knew you compared to him!

I've got a new respect for Remus, though; far from treating me as self-centered (though I was, simply focusing on my own pain and not thinking of anyone else's), he actually talked to me like...well, like I was an adult. I mean, I know that I sort of _am_ an adult, but I'm not used to acting like one, or being treated like one.

But as I was saying, we spent a long time in that living room, talking. Mostly about you, actually, but about other things, too—Order business, the War. And somehow it felt all right to talk. It even felt like I could have cried there, in front of him, and not been embarrassed or ashamed.

The strange thing was, throughout the entire conversation, I never felt the need to cry...

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_July 7th_

_Molly,_

_How did you get Lupin to come?_

_—Emmeline_

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_July 7th_

_Em_

_I didn't; Dumbledore did._

_—Molly_

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_July 7th_

_You got Dumbledore in on this?_

_—Em_

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_July 7th_

_He got into it himself. Actually, having the party was slightly his idea..._

_—Molly _

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**Author's Note:** I was slightly surprised by the number of people wanting me to continue this fic. Eleven reviews in two days! I already had this chapter written when I posted the first, which is the only reason it's coming up this soon. (And yes, it's short, but it didn't feelright adding more on to it.)I was going to wait, but…please don't hate me… 

…I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I've finally decided that I'm going to take a one-month self-imposed hiatus from fanfiction, starting after I post this.

There, I said it.

The reason for this, in short, is that fanfiction has become a distraction that I don't think I can afford. I am currently working on writing an original novel, but it seems that I always find some excuse to put off writing it. Many of my excuses come in the form of fanfiction. I have decided that I enjoy the "instant gratification" I get from posting a new chapter and seeing a bunch of review alerts in my inbox, and that it's caused me to forget the possible gratification that will come a long way into the future when I finish my novel. This is an experiment designed to remind me why I started writing in the first place: for myself.

I will probably still write fanfiction during this hiatus of mine, but I will not post anything for a month at least—perhaps more. I'm sorry to disappoint anyone, but I've come to the decision that I have to put my original work first. I hope my loyal readers will understand, and that new readers won't be scared away. I thank you all sincerely for your patience and support. If there is anyone who would like to be alerted when I'm up and posting again, just leave your e-mail in a review and tell me you're interested.

Thank you for reading all of this! Cyber-cookies for anyone who actually read it through! (Especially for anyone who read it through and doesn't hate me.)

Reading Redhead

**Please, don't let my annoyingly long A/N keep you from reviewing this chapter! I promise I won't do it again if you review and tell me what you thought of the chapter, which was really the important part, anyway.**


	3. Happiness's End

**Chapter 3: Happiness's End**

**From the desk of Mr. R. J. Lupin**

**Sunday July 7th, 1996**

Dear Sirius,

Well, I went to the party. I guess it wasn't too bad. I actually had a nice talk with Tonks. She's missing you, too—I think she was glad to have someone to talk to about it. I know I was.

It's interesting—she's always seemed so much younger than us, so much more carefree, but I saw a different side of her yesterday. She was almost...quiet. Serious.

I know that if you can hear me, you're laughing, but yes, I did just say that: Tonks was serious. She'd traded her usually short, spiky hair in for longer, more subdued brown curls. I don't remember what exactly she wore, but it was subdued as well. It was sad to see her like that, but in a way talking to her has helped me understand that I'm not going through this alone. Knowing that someone else feels the same has somehow made the pain more bearable. I thought you'd like to hear that, and know that your cousin's thinking of you as well.

—Moony

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_July 7th_

_Remus_

_I just wanted to say thanks for talking with me last night. It really helped, being able to get some of that stuff off my chest. Hope things are better with you, too._

_—Tonks_

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_July 7th_

_Tonks_

_Glad I could help. I'm doing well, though it looks like I'll be leaving at the end of the summer—Order business. It was good to see you._

_—Remus_

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**_The Daily Prophet — Wednesday July 10th, 1996_**

**Death Eaters Attack!**

In an unprecedented show of force, the group of You-Know-Who's supporters styling themselves as the "Death Eaters" have attacked and killed a witch by the name of Emmeline Vance. Ms. Vance, who lived alone in her small London flat, was found dead this morning.

Muggle authorities were alerted to the crime by the Dark Mark hovering over the building. As far as our reporters have been able to discover, the Muggles believed that the mark might have been a sign of disrespect towards their current Prime Minister, who stands for reelection next month. Upon investigation, however, they found the body of the former Sub-Regulator of the Greater London Floo Network. Their memories have since been modified.

Ms. Vance appears to have been murdered through use of the killing curse after she refused to reveal information to the Death Eaters under pain of torture. Further information will be published when it is acquired. Please contact the Auror Office if you have any clues as to the whereabouts of known Death Eaters, or if you sight possible Death Eater activity.

Ms. Vance's parents were contacted, but declined to provide the _Prophet_ with a statement.

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**From the diary of Nymphadora Tonks**

**Wednesday July 10th, 1996**

Damn it all to hell.

When Sirius died all I wanted to do was cry; now, with Em gone, I suddenly can't. Sorry, Em, the tears are all gone, I've used them all up and now I don't have any left to spend on you. You annoyed the hell out of me and made me leave my comfort zone, but you were my friend! You might have pissed me off, but never because you were wrong.

And so in your absence all that I can do is write mild swear words (because despite what people might think, I don't like swearing—you hear that, mum?) and try to fill the silence with _something_, since I can't muster up tears.

That's one hell of a pathetic declaration.

But really—what sort of world do we live in? When I was at the Burrow for the party, the Evening Prophet came. Charlie started reading it, and I overheard Ron ask him, casually, "Anyone we know dead yet?" And I can't help but thinking, what kind of a world is this? Where a sixteen-year-old can say that, in such a manner, sounding casual about it because he's really probably serious but doesn't want to let it out since it's not good to cry in front of his mum? Hell, when I first joined the Order, first learned the truth that Voldemort was back, I wished that I could be a kid again, ignorant and happy. But now it looks like even kids don't get to be kids any more. All of us have to play adults, whether we want to or not.

Part of me says that Em was an adult, she made her decision to fight with the Order, she knew that it could cost her more than a few extra hours of her weekends. But the rest of me says screw that, she _was_ an adult, and a competent witch, and she should have been safe within her own home.

These are dark and desperate times...but even the pain is welcome, in a sickening way, because it means that I'm one of the lucky ones who's still alive to feel.

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_July 10th_

_Tonks_

_Look, I know you don't want to talk to anyone, but please, you need to leave your apartment! Yes, I know you're in there, even though the door's locked and you're not letting me in despite the fact that I've been standing out here for about an hour trying every charm I know to get it open. I figure I'll have it open soon enough, though…you could just let me in._

_I know this is tough for you, but did you ever think that maybe you're not the only one who spent the morning crying their eyes out? That maybe _I _could want someone to talk to, and that maybe I'm coming to you because you knew her almost as well as me?_

_Just think about that._

_—Hestia_

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**From the personal weblog of Kim Delaney, aspiring novelist**

**7/10/96 1:****04 PM**

Urgh. Trying to write and not succeeding. There is a general fuss going on in the apartment next door and I cannot concentrate! First, someone was pounding on the door for about an hour, and muttering weird things that even I could hear. I thought that maybe it was a break-in attempt, but she kept shouting like she knew the girl—Tonks, I think her name is—so I guess it was a friend or something?

There was a lot of noise, and I almost just stuck my head out the door to yell at the stupid people responsible for such a god-awful hullabaloo when I heard the door open, and then suddenly they were both crying… Geez, I don't think I _want_ to know what was going on up there. They sounded like two people in a really big fight.

I'm just hoping it wasn't some kind of lovers' spat.

Well, at least it's quiet now and maybe I can get back to really writing.

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**From the diary of Nymphadora Tonks**

**Wednesday July 10th, 1996 (later)**

Hestia just left. I was being a real prick and not letting her in, but she sent an owl which managed to get in through the chimney (darn wizarding pets and their resourcefulness) and made me feel guilty and stupid so I let her in. I'd almost forgotten—it seems funny to write this, but it's true—that she was just as much Em's friend as I was. Maybe even more, as she pointed out.

We hugged, we talked, we cried, we remembered. And somehow it was easier to not have to do it alone. I'm realizing it's always easier to have a friend.

And this just makes me see how damned unfair the whole thing is. Everyone in the Order—they're _all_ really my friends, the ones I know at least. And they're going to be the first ones to die. The ones we need the most are putting themselves in danger daily. The only thing more frightening to me than writing that is that I know I'm one of them. Talking with Hestia made me think of a lot of things. I don't know if I could have done what Em did, withholding information under pain of torture, but I know that I'd try. Because the Order is bigger than any one person; we're all just a cause, really, and it's a cause I believe in. I don't know what's worse: that Em died, or that she won't be the last death.

Or that anyone, even me, could be next.

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_July 11th_

_Dear Order Members,_

_The mood's been rather dismal of late, so we decided it was up to us to lighten things up! For those of you who were aware of Kingsley's betting pool, we are beginning something similar, but on a much larger scale. Bet on who _you_ think the next Order couple will be! Bets will be kept anonymous, and for the safety of possible relationships, they shall not be publicly revealed. (We wouldn't want people getting together just to win money; that'd be wrong!) We can be reached at our Diagon Alley premises._

_—Fred & George Weasley_

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**Friday July 12th**

**Howler sent to Fred and George Weasley**

**Number 94, Diagon Alley, ****London**

_HOW DARE YOU SEND OUT A NOTE LIKE THAT? DIDN'T I TEACH YOU ANYTHING? SOMEONE VERY DEAR TO US ALL HAS JUST **DIED** AND YOU'RE STARTING UP A **BETTING POOL**? I'M ASHAMED WITH YOU, BOYS!_

_AND DON'T THINK I'LL KEEP DOING YOUR LAUNDRY AFTER **THIS**!_

_----_----------------------------

**Weasleys****' Wizard Wheezes Shop Log**

**July 13th**

Sold a dozen more Skiving Snackboxes. Business booming even with more than a month to go before students go back to Hogwarts.

Tested new line of Shield Cloaks—need to perfect the extension of the charm. Possible need for Shield Shoes?

In other news...

Order Couple betting pool going well. Several people seem to be making joke bets. Operation "Cheer-Up" appears to be working.

But of course we won't be sad if we make some money off if it, so here's the current pool:

Ron and Hermione: 3 bets

Dumbledore and McGonagall: 1 bet

Kingsley and Hestia: 1 bet

Snape and his mother: 1 bet

Lupin and Tonks: 1 bet

The last one is odd—especially since the bet was placed by our mother, and after she had chewed us out for starting this...needless to say, we'll be watching those two.

We weren't going to count the bets on Hermione and our brother, since they're not really in the Order, but we just got so many of them...

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Author's Note:** I'm back! (Though you probably realized that already.) I'm really interested in how you liked this chapter. And I also suppose I should explain/apologize for the not-very-romantic subject material. Over all, this is a romance between Lupin and Tonks, but I'd also categorize it as Angst, and Drama at times as well. Unfortunately they only let me pick two genres! The thing is, I want to show the natural progression of their relationship, from its beginnings to the end of HBP with the Hospital Wing scene. This is still just the beginning—summer isn't even over yet! So I ask you to please be patient and wait for the romance to develop. In the meantime, hopefully I'm managing to be at least somewhat funny. 

Oh, random question: what do you all think of Tonks's nextdoor "neighbor"? I'm going to use her to narrate some things later on, so I figured it was a good time to introduce her. I think I like her—you've gotta throw a muggle into the mix, it makes things more interesting!

Please, I sometimes spend hours working on these chapters. If you've read this far, it doesn't take much longer for you to review and tell me what you thought! I return the favor.


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